


black ink final

by Ashling



Category: Giri/Haji (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hopeful Ending, Pining, character thinks the other is intensely hot but entirely unattainable, in a better world this is a 50k slow burn but im sorry i don't got it in me, siri play trust issues by drake in the left ear and trust issues by the weekend in the right ear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:14:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26831983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashling/pseuds/Ashling
Summary: Rei and Eiko, a Paris apartment, mostly silence.
Relationships: Eiko (Giri/Haji)/Rei Mori
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7
Collections: Writing Rainbow Black





	black ink final

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DoreyG](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoreyG/gifts).



It is very difficult to get a divorce from a man who has disappeared off the face of the earth. It would be easier to get him ruled as officially dead. But for Taki's sake, and _just in case,_ Rei waits and pays extravagant amounts of money to the lawyers, and very specifically does not ask Rodney about it, and eventually the very last of the papers arrive at Eiko's little apartment in Montmartre. Rei reads them all the way through, every last work, and signs her name in thick, careful curves of black ink. It is only paper, but it feels ceremonial. When at last the stamp is on the envelope and the envelope is in the mailbox, she feels different. Not better, not yet, but that may be coming.

Eiko returns early that night. The others have taken to sightseeing together, and for Taki's sake, Rei is grateful that they are all getting on so well, but she is older than they, and set in her ways, and deep down she yearns to go home, not the apartment that still has an empty bed with an empty IV line next to it, home as in the place she used to live some ten or twenty years ago. The place wiped away by all Rei's worries. Now that Rei no longer has anything to worry about—well, anytihng other than Taki falling in love with a French girl and deciding to stay in Europe forever, where nobody knows how to cook properly and they put their elderly in nursing homes when the time comes—Rei doesn't quite know what to do with herself. If it wasn't for Eiko's little one, she'd be utterly lost. If it wasn't for Eiko.

For such a young woman, Eiko is serene and self-possessed beyond her years. Maybe it was the isolation her father kept her under. Rei sometimes imagines her as a princess in a story, locked up by a cruel lord, but then, she knows deep down that it was more complicated than that, that Eiko loved her father in her own way, that Eiko saved herself as much as anyone else did. It would be easier that way, is the thing. If Eiko owed her something. But Eiko doesn't really owe Rei, and yet they keep ending up sitting at opposite ends of the sofa in silence together, tea and reading, tea and phones, tea and the television, and it means more to Rei than she knows how to express, means so much that it frightens her; she has no idea how they got here and no idea how to protect it. But it keeps happening.

Eiko has said, once or twice in passing, that she knows Donna gets a bit tense around her, despite all her good intentions. A little intimidated, maybe, and Eiko doesn't blame her for that. A mere wish to make things easier on Donna can't be enough to keep Eiko at home three out of four nights, though, can it? She loves to dance. Rei has seen her, once. Only the once, because Rei hates going to clubs as much as Rodney enjoys it, but once was enough. Something is keeping Eiko away from the nightclubs, and the sightseeing, and the boat rides, and the wine in the park. Could it be Rei? Or, no, that's likely Taki talking, or Rodney, or Donna or Yuto or any of the lovestruck young idiots who have no idea what it's like to be so thoroughly unwanted. That optimism, it is dangerous.

"I saw your envelope in the mailbox," Eiko says. It is her voice, not the words, that make Rei look up. Eiko is so rarely hesitant.

"I'm a divorcée now," Rei says. She is proud of herself for how natural she can make it sound, how untroubled.

Eiko drains her cup in one last sip before she answers, making the silence deliberate. "Free to remarry?"

Rei shakes her head and bites down on the bitterer answers. "Not like you."

"Well." Eiko untucks her legs from under her, puts down her phone, and reaches over to take Rei's cup. It's not until Eiko is walking towards the kitchen that the words drift back over her shoulder: "I'm exactly as free as you are, no more and no less."

"Shall we pick a date?" It just slips out, and she nearly winces at it. It's an imitation of Rodney, really, this escape mechanism. Not like her at all.

The hot water from the electric kettle gurgles a little as Eiko pours it into their mugs. And then, very quietly, "Is this a joke to you?"

That startles Rei, and badly. This? What is this? Evenings, quiet, an hour or two of peace snatched back from the lovable but relentless whirlwind of their friends and family? She thought she was the only one who felt herself moving gingerly under the golden light of the sconces, thought herself the only one snatching glances over the top of her book, but then, in recent times, she's been forced to admit that perhaps she's not as observant as she once thought she was. Look at Taki. Or—not even Taki, closer to this than that. There is a clue much more recent, if she's being honest. Drunk like she never is, catching EIko's arm as they stumbled into the bathroom, flushed and laughing. Eiko's hair impossibly soft, Eiko's lips tasting like cherry gloss, there was—oh, God, she's so stupid—that. But drunk. That is her defense. She was drunk and Eiko hadn't _said_ anything about it the next day, though, come to think of it, neither had she, rotten with a hangover as she'd been. This is the kind of thing that happens in Paris, she'd thought. It goes along with Rodney making everybody eat weed brownies, and trying stinky cheeses to please Donna even though she doesn't like cheese, and—it was like seeing the sights, she thought. For one of them, anyway.

Eiko is in front of her now, offering the cup with a carefully closed look in her eyes, and Rei can only look up at her, dumbstruck. She can't even remember what it was Eiko said, or what it is she herself is supposed to be saying. When she takes the cup from Rei, their fingers brush. She is grateful for the warmth of the tea, even though it's terribly weak, having had no time to steep. Half the cup is gone by the time she realizes what she should say. By then, Eiko is back on her phone.

"I—" No, that won't do. Rei clears her throat, then tries again. "I'm not joking, only..." Old, her brain supplies unhelpfully. Confused. Tired. Unfit. "Slow," is what she eventually settles for. And that is so nakedly not enough that the rest comes out fast: "I'm sorry I'm not better for you."

For a long second, Eiko looks at her over her phone, and Rei has to will herself not to shrink away. And then, very mildly, Eiko says, "I can decide who's good for me." She puts her cup down on the table and lays her hand on the sofa between them, palm up. "And I don't mind slow."

After a second, Rei takes Eiko's hand. It sends curling sparks all the way up her arm, and she has to remember to breathe properly, but when she looks over, Eiko is smiling a little to herself and back on her phone. And that's not at all dramatic. After a while, Rei's heartbeat finally slows down, and her eyes can focus on the page in front of her, and Eiko's hand is still in hers, soft and warm. The apartment around them is solid and safe. And Rei doesn't mind slow, either.


End file.
